The Auction
by Aiakia
Summary: Those condemned to death are not as damned as those condemned to suffering. Sephiroth has earned the worst we can give him, so let his torment be delivered. /Seph x Aeris/


**JUDGMENT**

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Between Elysium and Purgatory was an auction house. It was rare that anyone was ever auctioned there, but when it occurred, the dead rejoiced. Those auctioned off did not deserve to go to Elysium, and even Purgatory was too good for the likes of them. Whoever they were sold to held complete power over them, and they were forced to comply with all of their master's desires. Those poor souls that they had wronged in life would assemble at the auction house, from both Elysium and Purgatory, waiting to get their revenge.

Sephiroth knew nothing of this when he died, but would learn it soon enough. The moment he passed into the afterlife, he found himself bound and gagged. His hands were behind his back, tied at the wrist by some sort of rope. His feet were shackled and chained. A silken cloth covered his eyes so that he saw nothing of his captors or his surroundings. But what he could hear, for some reason, terrified him.

A crowd.

They were standing above him. He could hear the cheers and yells, the stomping of their feet on the ceiling. Something was placed around his neck and tightened. A noose, perhaps? But he was already dead, wasn't he?

Hands gripped at his belt buckle and he pulled away. Why the hell was he just standing there, letting them do this to him? Pulling hard, Sephiroth tried to work out of his restraints, but he had none of the former strength he had in life. Hands on his bare back pushed him forward and the hands in front of him worked at his belt once more.

"It's no use," said the one in front of him, clearly male. "You deserve this. The Judgment Bureau has deemed it so."

The hell he deserved this. He was an Ancient and deserved to live in the Promised Land! This was wrong, so wrong. These people. Such inferior imbeciles who only wanted to punish him because they were jealous of his superior knowledge and power. Sephiroth thought they only existed in the living world, but obviously they were in the land of the dead as well.

He continued to squirm, throwing himself backwards to escape, but more and more hands pressed against him, keeping him still. The belt was pulled roughly from Sephiroth's pants, and to his horror, his pants were being removed as well. Cold hands from the male that had spoken to him traced down his stomach, resting at the button of his pants for a moment before being undone. The zipper was lowered unbearably slow and Sephiroth could hear the man in front of him laugh.

"What's wrong, General?" he asked in mock concern. "It's just standard procedure."

Sephiroth tried to pull away again, but the man caught him by the front of his pants, clenching the material in his hand. The backs of his fingers rested against Sephiroth's soft gray pubic hair and he proceeded to use that grip to pull the pants down. Clenching his jaw, Sephiroth drew back again, fighting back a shiver as the man's cold flesh glided down his organ. What in the hell was being done to him?

Sephiroth felt powerless – something he had never felt before. There were times in his past when he felt shamefully weak, yes, but he was never powerless. He could not fight these hands that pressed against him, too distracted by the crowd above him. There was nothing to be done.

A feminine laugh sounded behind him. "You know his feet are bound, right? You're going to have a hell of a time getting those pants off like that."

The man in front of him snorted. "Yes. I know." He tapped at the leather around Sephiroth's neck. "Let's hope this works."

Sephiroth felt the man lower in front of him and smiled inwardly. The moment the shackles were undone he could move his legs, he could save himself. Where he would actually go or what he would do didn't matter. He refused to be disgraced this way. No doubt he would be brought naked in front of that crowd. What they would do to him there he didn't know. But Sephiroth would not allow that to happen.

A metallic click sounded and Sephiroth made his move. He pushed forward, prying his arms free from the hands, but his pants, still around his thighs, tripped him and he stumbled into the man kneeling before him. The man fell backwards, landing on the floor with Sephiroth on top of him. Sephiroth shuttered at the sensation of the man's breath on his skin and the fabric of the man's shirt brushing against his naked thighs. Hands were on him in an instant, forcing him back. The man in front of him was laughing again as he got back up and continued to take off Sephiroth's pants. "Well," he said, "that was an experience."

Finally finding his voice, Sephiroth said, "What the hell are you doing to me?"

"Ah, he speaks," said another male behind him.

The female who had spoken earlier giggled. "Oh, stop. Can't you see the poor thing is confused?" Sephiroth felt her pat the crown of his head gently, as if he was a dog, and he jerked away from her, causing her to laugh again.

The man in front replied, "He'll understand soon enough."

Shackles went around his bare ankles again, and he was pushed forward; the sound of the crowd became louder and louder. Sephiroth felt his heartbeat quicken. He was stronger than this; he had to remain in control. Regardless of his punishment, he could endure it. Pain was nothing to him. Let them try to break him. Just let them try.

Sephiroth was led up stairs and he felt the sudden rush of open air assault his naked limbs. The crowd cheered as he was positioned to stand before them on a type of stage. Wind tousled his hair, giving birth to the need to cover his exposed body, which was impossible. All hands left his body save for one that held him by the arm and even that slipped away.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the man, which Sephiroth now assumed to be the leader, said. His voice reverberated, obviously magnified through a microphone of some sort. The leader paused, waiting for the crowd to quiet a bit before continuing.

"Welcome to the auction!"

The crowd went wild with cheers and shouts and whistles.

"The auction?" Sephiroth found himself repeating.

"Before we start the bidding," the man continued, "let me remind you all of this man's offenses and why you are all here."

Bidding? They were going to bid on him? No that couldn't happen…that couldn't…he had to get away. But how and to where? He couldn't see anything. He was naked, his hands were tied and the chain link between his feet would only allow him to take small steps. There was a crowd in front of him, who sounded like they wanted to rip him limb from limb. Was there nothing he could do? How could he go from nearly being a god to this?

"This man," the leader began, "killed over a thousand men in Wutai single-handedly. He slaughtered dozens in Nibelheim without remorse, only to do it again in the ShinRa HQ. He murdered again and again as he traveled to obtain the Black Materia, summon it, and become a god to control the world. Blasphemy! Though Midgar was mostly evacuated when Meteor hit, those that remained are dead because of this man standing before you!"

Sighing as his sins were laid out bare before him and the crowd, which sounded more like an unruly mob by this point, Sephiroth lowered his head. He had done those things. But sacrifice was necessary to restore the world to its rightful state. Humans were polluting the planet and Sephiroth was destined to get rid of them. It was what his mother wanted. But…where was she?

The man paused in his speech and gave a short laugh, "Ah, but you all know about his sins, do you not!"

The crowd roared in response and Sephiroth unconsciously stepped backwards. Where was Mother? Surely she would save him from this! He called her within his mind, but there was no response.

Sephiroth felt the man draw near him, felt the fabric of his clothes brush against his naked flesh. A cold hand was placed on his shoulder, and the man's face was pressed close to his. He wanted to jerk away, but found that he couldn't move.

"They are your victims, you know," the man whispered, his heated breath tickling Sephiroth's ear. Sephiroth squared his shoulders, his posture stiffening.

A low chuckle from the man sent waves of vibration through Sephiroth's body. "Oh, yes," the leader said. "These people are all dead because of you. I want you to take that in for a moment."

"Mother," Sephiroth whispered. He repeated her name again and again. "Please…"

"Your mother can't save you now," the leader said coldly. His hand left Sephiroth's shoulder and he moved away. "Let the bidding begin," he announced.

Though the crowd was deafening, everything seemed to fade away as the man's words sunk in. It couldn't be true. Jenova wouldn't leave her son, abandon him like this, would she? No, she would come. He had failed her, yes, so maybe this was a small punishment, but surely Mother would intervene eventually. He only had to wait. But for how long?

His mind returned to the present. His victims were placing their bids with stories instead of money. Stories of how he had wronged them, ruined their lives. But the leader waited, not convinced that he had heard the worst of them.

"Yes! What has he done to you, ma'am?"

"I was pregnant when he killed me. Me and my unborn child were slaughtered in Wutai!"

"What tragedy! And you, sir, what has this man done to you?"

"He killed my entire family!"

"Monstrous! Who else has been wronged by this devil? Ah! That man there. Yes, you!"

"My daughter watched me die because of him, and that monster nearly killed her as well, before burning our hometown to the ground!"

"But what about my son?" A woman called out. "He watched me die as well while Nibelheim was burning!"

"Oooh, yes! Good, good! Anyone else? Surely someone _must_ have been more wronged by this man!"

One by one they stepped forward and named his crimes. Each one worse thanthe last, exactly what the auctioneer wanted. Memories that Sephiroth had blocked from his mind, either by his own will or by Jenova's suppression, returned in abundance. He would go to the one he committed the greatest offense against. That must have been the way of it. But thinking back, Sephiroth couldn't imagine who that might have been. He had hurt so many people and enjoyed doing it.

The leader's hands were on him again, pushing him closer to the crowd. He spread Sephiroth's legs apart, making him once again aware of his nakedness, his vulnerability. "Don't forget, folks!" the man announced, wanting to rouse up the crowd again. "You can do whatever you like with him!"

The crowd roared and even though Sephiroth sensed it before it happened, he inhaled sharply as a leather strap whipped across his bare back. He composed himself and remained utterly silent as the strap licked at his calves, his thighs, and his buttocks for several minutes before returning to his back. He was not hit very hard, not enough to draw blood, but he was positive that welts were already forming on his stinging flesh. This pain was nothing. He could endure much worse.

"Yes, yes, pain is well and good for him. Look at how well he takes it!" The man laughed to himself, pausing before continuing. "But, perhaps he takes it too well; what do you all think?" Sephiroth couldn't possibly imagine what the auctioneer meant. If he would not be hurt, what else could be done to him?

Without warning, a hand wrapped itself tenderly around his penis, gently stroking it. Sephiroth gasped in surprise and felt his face redden in humiliation. He jumped away from the auctioneer's hand. This could not happen.

"Do not move, Sephiroth," the man said and at the sound of his name, a shock coursed through his loins from the strap at his neck, and he fought for control over the spasm in his muscles. His cock was back in the man's hands and a small moan escaped the back of his throat as the man began pumping it. By the time the shock had faded and Sephiroth had control over his limbs, his organ was firm and stiff in the auctioneer's hand. Giving a grunt of satisfaction, the man let go of Sephiroth, leaving his erection to be viewed by the crowd.

Sephiroth's breathing grew haggard and he lowered his head again. To be on display like this! It was bad enough to be naked but…He had to get rid of this erection; it was too painful to be left unattended, but his hands were behind his back. Physical pain was nothing to him, but this, this was a different kind of pain. His organ pulsed with the need to be released and as horrific as the thought was, Sephiroth wished that the auctioneer would take him in his hands and finish the job. But no, he was to suffer like this. Maybe if he closed his legs…

The strap struck low on his stomach. _Too close…_ "Keep your legs apart," the auctioneer warned. "Take a good look ladies and gentlemen! He seems quite uncomfortable, doesn't he? Remember to keep your options open when I say you can do _whatever_ you want with him! Now! Who has a story for me?"

"I do," a soft, feminine voice replied. "But I will not speak it here."

The crowd quieted, even the auctioneer was silent. Sephiroth could hear someone approaching, most likely the woman who had just spoken.

"Ah, yes," the auctioneer said softly. "We didn't think you would attend such an event."

"I, too, was killed by that man. Shouldn't I also be able to bid for him?"

"But, could you be strict enough to punish him?"

"Living with me should be torment enough, but yes, I can be strict and punish him as well," she answered, and Sephiroth was quite sure he had heard her voice before.

"And you are aware of the rules?"

"Of course."

Which one of his victims could it be?

"Hm, very well. You may take him."

The crowd let out a cry of outrage: voices screaming that it wasn't fair, she wasn't worthy, that the auction was fixed. Sephiroth tried to remember the all of women that died by his hand. Her voice sounded familiar, but for the life of him he just couldn't…

Metal clicked at his neck and he was pulled forward like a dog on a leash. The auctioneer's cold hands patted Sephiroth's backside as he was lead past him, making Sephiroth feel even more like a pet of some sort. His penis was now flaccid for the most part, though how long that would last depended on whoever this woman was. Maybe if he knew her name, it would be a bit clearer.

Then again probably not.

He didn't know how he killed her; simply that he did. There was no way that he could place a name with every woman that happened to die by his hands. If only he weren't wearing this damned blindfold!

The crowd remained rowdy as Sephiroth trailed who he assumed was to be his 'owner', though no one touched him directly. The woman walked in front of him silently. Her footsteps were slow and uneven, hesitant almost, as she led Sephiroth through the crowd. People muttered obscenities towards him as he passed, the more vile of them were directed at him, but he heard several directed towards the woman as well, saying that she was a spoiled brat, along with all the rest of them.

Sephiroth heard a hocking sound, followed by something wet hitting his cheek, and then laughter. He couldn't take this, wanted to get away, needed time to think, had to be free. The sounds of the mass began to fade into the distance: it was just him and this woman now. He could do it; he could escape.

"Keep walking," the woman said calmly, as if she knew what he was planning.

"Who are you?" Sephiroth asked, finding his voice now that he was away from the throngs of people.

The leash went slack and Sephiroth could hear her walking towards him. The feeling of cold, tiny fingers on his face made Sephiroth go rigid as she fidgeted with the blindfold. She was having a difficult time removing it. She was trembling. If Sephiroth were to pull away now, she would loose her grip on him, and he could leave, leave and be rid of this humiliation. And yet, something in him wanted to see who it was, see who he had been auctioned off to, who he had supposedly wronged the most. Sadistic curiosity made him stay.

Her hands began to fall away, along with the cloth that covered his eyes, and Sephiroth squinted his eyes against the light that hit them, before adjusting, and focusing on the woman in front of him.

After removing the blindfold, she stepped away several paces, and held the leash that trailed from his neck tightly in both hands, as if her life depended on it. She was considerably shorter than he was, and looked to be about his age, or perhaps a few years younger. Her brown hair was pulled back, save for several pieces, which framed her face. Her eyes were several shades darker than his, but equally as green, and seemed to focus somewhere over his left shoulder, rather than on his naked body, or his eyes.

There was the air of familiarity about her, which Sephiroth couldn't place, and wasn't entirely sure if it was there from his own faded memory, or if the knowledge that he killed her was simply forcing it upon him. He looked closely at her – the lithe body, the simple dress – who _was_ this woman?

She cleared her throat uncomfortably, turned around, and began to walk forward again without a word. It wasn't until her back was towards him, her plaited hair swaying with her body, that he realized just who she was, and before Sephiroth could stop himself, the word had escaped his lips:

"Cetra."

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**Author's Notes:**

I've been toying with the idea of this story for a while now, and decided to post it to see what sort of reaction I get from it...

At the moment, whether or not I continue writing it depends on the feedback I get. So, whether you love it, hate it, or just want to see where I'll take it, feel free to leave a review telling me what you think.

Also, if I do continue with it...I'll probably have to post a more edited version on (The not-so-edited version I'll put on Media Miner, or some such like that) as this will probably get fairly dark and graphic...


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